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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27571660">Grimace and Bear it</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Max_Mirphy/pseuds/dr-habitual'>dr-habitual (Max_Mirphy)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Smile For Me (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Other, Parsley is trans, Reader is Flower Kid (Smile For Me), Reader is trans masc, Self-Esteem Issues, Teeth, anxiety attack near end, but its just a sad moment in a larger story with a happy ending, just a drabble from a doc full of half-ideas, of course, some bullying (thanks habit haha), sort of sad ending</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 20:47:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,531</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27571660</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Max_Mirphy/pseuds/dr-habitual</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a small drabble about a Trans-masc FK bonding briefly with Parsley over being Trans(tm), and then Habit of course ruins it with a mean PSA</p><p>From a long list of scenes and drabbles - this was the only thing sort-of coherent that I felt like sharing.</p><p>Flower kid is You! :-)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Flower Kid &amp; Putunia Mollar, Jimothan Botch &amp; Parsley Botch, Parsley Botch &amp; Flower Kid</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Grimace and Bear it</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Flower Kid is You and uses he/him pronouns.</p><p>Just some good ol' fashioned on-site gay/trans bonding. </p><p>And a canon-typical Habit PSA of course.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Flower had introduced himself the previous day, but that didn’t stop Putunia from rushing at him as soon as he entered the carnival. He managed a quick side-step, but only barely. The kid pouted her way back to him after over-shooting her attack.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yer not supposed to dodge!" Her voice was as loud as ever. Things like that irritated him, but Putunia was so sweet, she could get away with it. The baby could have little an evil, as a treat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ha ha. Funny-<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Flower grunted when she landed a sneaky punch to his stomach and held a hand out to ward off her attacks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're 'sposed to be training me, not using me as a punching bag." He wheezed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Only a little earlier he'd been annoyed at the children of the Habitat. Now he found himself endeared to them and their antics, especially 'Tunia. She was a spitfire and funny as hell, not to mention confident in herself. She was a great kid, if a bit punchy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Putunia chewed over his words, staring off to the side. "Well…" she hummed, uncertain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Maybe you've got a mission for me? To stop the "green meanie"?" He supplied. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It hadn't taken him long to realize that the bad guy was supposed to be Dr. Habit, the man in charge of the Habitat. He hadn't had the pleasure of meeting him yet, so he took Putunia's words with a grain of salt. He at least vaguely knew what he looked like, thanks to all the murals. He could probably recognize the guy if he ever deigned to appear. Maybe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn't pay too much attention to the PSA's played in the morning. At least he hadn't, until Nat had mentioned how weird some were getting. After seeing a few he had to admit they weren't… conventional. In fact most of them were downright unhelpful, giving "advice" that had a sweet tone and sour insides. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Flower hadn't been here very long, so maybe it wasn't all bad, but that combined with the absent Doctor and the lack of any structure or actual program… Well, the place was basically free, and probably a scam, but he was getting paid to be here basically, (thanks Boss!) so he chose not to worry too much. He certainly didn't want to rock the boat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Putunia gasped, ducking behind his legs at the mention of the Doctor. She glared at the tower, apparently where Habit spent all of his time avoiding the Habiticians. "The green </span>
  <em>
    <span>menace</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Flower Power!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh yeah, yes of course," he amended. Everyone here called him some variation of ‘Flower’. He could thank his boss for that. The guy only ever called him Flower Kid. Weirdo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He received a serious nod for his correction. She slowly un-hid herself from behind his legs, pondering over the carnival. She finally pointed towards Gerry and the ever-chugging "Martha". The thing was creepy. He hated its straight, perfect teeth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Get ta work diz-mantalin th'doomsday device, cadet!" She smacked her boxing glove into her hand for emphasis. "There's no tellin' when the green menace will set it off!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"...I don't think Gerry would be very happy if I started taking Martha apart." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>God he couldn't believe he called the machine by name. He was worried the thing would frown at him if he didn't… ugh. Ew. The idea of ‘Martha’ frowning was worse than seeing her smile, somehow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He crouched down next to Putunia, drawing circles in the dirt and rocking back and forth on his heels. 'Tunia didn't mind that he disliked eye contact. He’d definitely murder someone for her if she asked. She was basically his little sister now.<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Plus, I dunno how to do that." He added.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Huuuuuhh…" Putunia swung her arms back and forth, throwing her head back so the thoughts could come better. "Uuuum… come back t'morrow cadet! I gotta go train with Millie." She shimmied from side to side, smile bright. "She saw me punch that business guy in th' mouth and said it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>cool</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She's showing me her clown fighting techniques!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Flower Kid snorted, covering his smile with a hand. "Business guy?" He didn’t doubt the little spitfire had managed it. He should probably apologise on her behalf... He wasn’t exactly discouraging her from punching people.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>'Tunia pointed past the Carlas and their games, and past Martha. In the back of the courtyard, milling by the ever-burning tire fire was a shorter man in a business suit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hiiim. I think he's named <em>Herb</em> or somethin'."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patience lost, Putunia gave Flower Kid's chest a solid punch (ow), unbalancing him and sending him landing on his ass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"ANYWAYS! Bye Flower Power!!!! Keep training!!!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She rushed off before he could get back up, smartly avoiding his retaliation. What he would have done? Probably just blown a raspberry at her. He was quickly becoming more and more fond of 'Tunia and her gap-toothed smile every day. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a bit strange. Kids had always made him nervous, but now that he'd spent some time with them, they weren't half bad. Frickin' hilarious, too. At least ‘Tunia was. He'd half a mind to take some of these kids home with him. Pops wouldn't mind having some more kids. He'd taken him in willingly enough.<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He dusted his pants off and glanced around, looking for something to do. He dreaded the quiet moments, the inbetween. Thankfully, there had been plenty of things to do at the Habitat. Lots of people to help; and he was good at that. Being helpful was one of his only redeeming qualities. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It kept him busy as well, his thoughts occupied by the Habiticians’ many problems.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He'd already won the single carnival game - with some cheating - and the other Carla wouldn't let him play without a glove like Putunia's. He may as well introduce himself to the trash fire guy. Maybe he (like everyone here) needed some help.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he got close enough to make out his face, Flower actually recognized it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was about one whole billboard in town; an advertisement for the handful of local lawyers. Behind the two imposing women in suits in the foreground, was a picture of the same guy smiling awkwardly and looking like he hated photography with a passion. He couldn't fault him for that. It was kind of a nightmare to have your face blown up on a huge billboard that the whole town could see.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had the same awkward look on his face when Flower Kid came near, so maybe it was just his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The ‘herb man’ seemed surprised at being approached. Flower offered an awkward wave. “Hey… Botch, right?” Before he could stop himself he added, “I’ve seen your billboard.” Wow, that was probably super rude. Oops.<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mr. Botch’s face crumpled, and he closed his eyes. “Mm, yeah. That’s me. Parsley, from lawyering, and banking. And general businessing.” He lifted his suitcase in greeting. “You’re that chicken tender- I.” His eyes opened, and he stared at the ground in disbelief. “Flower. Vendor. That. Ugh, sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He really didn’t want to laugh. The guy was exhausted; suit rumpled and bags under his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it was funny.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He allowed himself to snort, shuffling his hands into his pockets. “Yeah, that’s me. You can just call me Flower Kid. Everyone else is.” It wasn’t his name, but he didn’t mind it. He was used to Pops calling him that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Parsley smiled. It was more of a grimace that </span>
  <em>
    <span>tried </span>
  </em>
  <span>to be a smile, familiar enough a sight for Flower at least. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Er, yeah uh, sorry that’s-” his stomach growled, and he closed his eyes, expression pained. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Sorry, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Jesus Christ. Sorry. I came here to relax and stuff but I haven’t eaten in </span>
  <em>
    <span>days</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” At Flower’s alarmed look he explained. “My dad, uh, god he’s in the lounge. He’s the fogey old bartender, Jimothan, and I just… I wanted to come here to get </span>
  <em>
    <span>away</span>
  </em>
  <span> from stress- I don’t need him telling me to talk to sports and play girls- wait. Sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No- It’s okay uhm.” It wasn’t his problem. But… “If he’s that big of an ass I can go get you some food, man.” He made sure to add a shrug to the end of his sentence. Keep it casual. Don't push, Flower.<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Parsley’s eyes shot open. “Wha- no he’s not- not an </span>
  <em>
    <span>ass</span>
  </em>
  <span>, uh.” He whispered the word, glancing around, like the guy would appear and repremind him. “No-I- just- He. He doesn’t get me and l-like. I haven’t seen him in a </span>
  <em>
    <span>long</span>
  </em>
  <span> time and-  I mean I’m just- </span>
  <em>
    <span>different</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Now. And he didn’t get me before and </span>
  <em>
    <span>now </span>
  </em>
  <span>and-” He stopped himself, face flushing with regret. “I’m sorry flour- </span>
  <em>
    <span>flower</span>
  </em>
  <span> vendor- this isn’t- oh jesus.” He pressed his free palm to his face. “Sorry- I must have been breathing in the tire fumes. Ignore me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no no- um.” Flower shoved the hand he’d extended back into his pocket when Parsley looked at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My… parents didn’t ‘get’ me either.” He admitted, shifting under Parsley’s intent gaze. “Like, to the point that I said ‘fuck that’ and moved literally cross-country, you know?” He gave the man in front of him a cautious, semi hopeful look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was receiving one right back. Parsley’s face had flushed, and he shifted, suddenly shy and avoiding eye contact. “I… oh? Um-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah!” He hurried to explain. “It’s… better now. I’m here, got my name changed, alla that. Boss- Um.” His face flushed. “... Pops, the flower shop owner he- he’s really nice to me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His lips threatened to quirk up into a genuine smile, and he squelched it into something tight-lipped. He made himself meet eyes with Parsley. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll go get you some food. I don’t want your dad fucking with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Parsley’s face, if possible, got even darker. “I- you don’t have to do that he’s, I mean he’s not like </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> he’s just… really stupid- no that’s mean- he just doesn’t <em>get</em> it, you know?” He defended. He shifted from foot to foot. “I, god I dunno if he’d even recognize me… I mean I miss him and stuff, I’d get letters from him but it’s… It’s been a while.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll come with you.” Flower immediately offered. “I- Like, yeah I’m really short but I can be intimidating enough when I need to.” He paused. “We… gotta look out for each other, you know?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Parsley nodded, tactfully looking up at the sky. “I- </span>
  <em>
    <span>ye-ah.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” His voice cracked a little and Flower snorted. It transformed into a guffaw, and he smiled. It was his first real grin at the habitat, actually. He forgot about covering his mouth, about how tired he was. The tension drained from his spine, despite the possible incoming family reunion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stepped closer to Parsley, holding out his elbow. “Well come on then, Attorney Botch. Care for a little dinner date?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blushing, laughing a little, Parsley hooked his arm through his. “Yeah, actually. Uh, I haven’t been on a date in a </span>
  <em>
    <span>while</span>
  </em>
  <span>, whoo.” He cringed, thinking about that. “I, uh you can just call me Parsley.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Flower for me, then. Come on, you’re about to collapse, you twink.”<br/>
</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gillis let them enter the lounge in exchange for Maynard. It was a fair deal, but he hoped he could win an additional Maynard for his own. Thing was cute. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Parsley awkwardly untangled their arms halfway down the stairs. Flower let him, not commenting, and staying near enough that he could reach out if he needed to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The nerves coming off of Parsley were making him sympathy-nervous. So, before he could lose his nerve, he led the way into the lounge, waving to Tiff and only blushing a little when (Jerafina was it?) sent a wolf whistle their way. </span>
  <span>He found a slightly less sticky than normal bar stool to sit at, eyeing the man behind the bar. He hadn’t yet turned to look at them, busy with some glasses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After an internal dilemma that wasn’t entirely internal, seeing as it was fairly clear on his face; Parsley sat down next to him, ducking his head a little.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Flower nudged his elbow against Parsley’s, letting it linger a second. He’d mentioned how bad his dad’s cooking was on the way to the lounge (and how he missed it). It seemed as good a way as any to crack this awkward situation open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What you wanna eat, Parsley?” Flower’s voice was pitched just a bit louder than normal, which grabbed Botch Senior’s (Jimothan, Parsley had said,) attention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The older man turned around at the sound of him talking, customer service smile sliding into place. Whatever suggestion Parsley was going to offer died in his throat when his dad looked at him curiously, and then did a double take. Both men stayed frozen, looking at each other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After the jukebox had filled the silence with a few verses, Flower cleared his throat. “Hey.” He said to Jimothan, who jolted and immediately focussed all attention on him. “Can we get some water please?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A-Er- yes of course. One second.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as his back was turned Flower looked to Parsley, checking him. He was sweating, and staring pointedly at a napkin on the bar in front of him. He jolted when his father set a glass down on it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Er- Parsley… It’s… It’s good to see you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To his credit, he really did sound happy. Nervous, but happy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You- you look good, son, uh. Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taken aback, Parsley mumbled something unintelligible before clearing his throat. His voice cracked. “Um-! Hi. Dad. Been a while, haha... Thanks, though...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, it has…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They faded into awkward silence, avoiding looking at each other. Flower finally cleared his throat, getting far too much attention for it. “Hi…” He mumbled, waving to Jimothan. “I don’t think we’ve met yet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jimothan brightened, taking the offered lifeline. “Ah! You’re that froufrou Flower Delivery kid! Nice to meet ya.” He extended a hand and shook his hand with a very firm, dad-like grip. He did a double take when he saw Flower’s painted nails, eyes lingering on them for a second before politely fixing on something else.<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He did the Gay Hand Flip™, getting a small snort out of Parsley. “Yeah, that’s me, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Mistah </span>
  </em>
  <span>Frou.” He folded his arms on the table, hesitated, and then went for it. “Anyway, Parsley said you haven’t seen each other in a while, so I thought we should go visit you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Might as well rip the band-aid off and get it all over with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Parsley choked, face darkening, and Jimothan glanced away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I. Um.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fucking- </span>
  <em>
    <span>Flower Kid</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Parsley hissed, elbowing him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He yelped. </span>
  <span>“Hey!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Language Parsley- er- I mean-” It was Jimothan’s turn to blush, realizing what he’d said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh oh, Parse. Looks like you’re grounded.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Parsley fumed a little, face beet red. “I’m an adult!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No sleep over for you bud, sorry. I’ll just have to invite a different friend to play Mario Kart with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Parsley actually looked disappointed, before he remembered that there wasn’t an actual sleep over to attend. “Ugh! I’ve literally just met you and you’re already getting on my nerves.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My special talent, Botch Jr.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jimothan snorted at that, keeping his hands busy with a dirty glass. “It’s… Good to see you, Parse.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The ice was broken eventually. Enough jabs at Parsley to get him to loosen up (a beer helped), and he and his dad were talking. Catching up. It was awkward, but also somehow sweet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Flower picked at the inedible ‘salad’ Jimothan had made him out of plastic and rubber. Apparently the rats had gotten to the food ‘again’. It was… the thought that counted. He was more worried about the rats getting any ideas that this might be a real salad. It looked real enough.<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually, it started to get late. A watch on Parsley’s wrist made a noise, and he grimaced. “Oh- geeze. I forgot, I’ve got paperwork to work on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kid, I thought you came here to relax?” Jimothan rolled his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“YEAH! Well. I did. But there’s still stuff to do.” He slid off of the barstool, only a little unbalanced. Abruptly shy, he shuffled a foot on the ground. “Uh, see ya tomorrow, Dad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jimothan smiled, subdued but pleased. “See you tomorrow, son.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Parsley left, and it was just Flower Kid, poking at his fake salad. He’d managed to rearrange the plastic enough that he had the shredded bag nearly reassembled, he could actually read the brand name. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jimothan cleared his throat after a while, eyes glued to his glassware. He never seemed to stop cleaning it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, thanks for brining my boy in, kid…” He coughed into his fist. “I… knew he was here an’ all… I was going to get to talking to him eventually, ya know… But… Er. Thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The word sounded a little strained, like he didn’t say it often. Flower smiled. Not the open one he’d given Parsley by accident, but his usual one. He still meant it, though. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No problem… Parsley said he missed you, after all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He did-? Uh- I mean I did too, of course- wait, uh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Flower poked at his ‘salad’. “Of course you missed him. He’s your son, and you love him. Who doesn't miss their kid?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jimothan actually blushed. He cleared his throat and looked to the side, dodging that bit of conversation. “Er- Uh, yeah uh- H-How long have you known Parsley? You two get along pretty well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Met him today.” Flower admitted. He laughed a little at Jimothan’s intense look, and just at the general situation. “Er- We have a lot in common. People like us tend to bond pretty quick.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like… what?” He gave him a clueless look. Flower looked him over for a moment, trying to judge if he was being an ass now that Parsley had left, but no. He genuinely didn’t seem to know.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The…” He glanced around the lounge, but it was just Tiff and Jerafina. Good. “The trans stuff.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If possible, Jimothan looked even more clueless. He made a searching, grumbling noise, cleaning his glass even harder. “The- uh- the- the- the- the…” He struggled and waved a hand in the air. “Th’ whole- the- the gender? Thing?” His hand kept waving, getting a little more frantic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Flower threw him a line. “Yeah, that.” He smiled a little, eyes just barely narrowed. He sensed no… ill intent. No anger or hate. It just seemed that Jimothan, genuinely, just didn’t have a fucking clue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a relief to realize that Jimothan’s ignorance was just that - he simply didn’t know anything about this particular subject. It made things a hell of a lot easier, and the man a lot easier to like.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“S-so, how do you know so much about all of… this.” He cleared his throat, ducking his head away as Flower’s eyes flicked to rest on him. “D’you… Have a friend or, or go to a college class…? They didn’t really ah, make this sorta stuff public knowledge back in my day, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He snorted and shook his head, coaxing an even more confused expression out of Jimothan. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, man.” He checked again, relieved it was only Tiff and Jerafina. “Same boat. I’m the same as Parsley, that’s why we got along well. It's like, a thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jimothan’s eyes popped open all the way. He coughed, looked to his off-the-shelf clean glass, and then anywhere else but at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah!.” He said. Concise and wise.<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he collected himself, he cleared his throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I- nothin’ wrong with that just- didn’t… Didn’t realize.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It must have been a Botch-centric talent, because Flower genuinely beamed. “... Thanks. That’s actually like, the nicest thing to hear.” He covered his mouth with a hand, when he realised he was smiling, waiting for his giddy feelings to subside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jimothan mumbled a handful of bashful nothings, shrugging his wide shoulders. Eventually he cleared his throat, taking on a serious, fatherly look that fit him well. “It’s gettin’ late, Flower kid, go on, get to bed.” He waved the dish rag at him before turning his back in an attempt to hide his blush. He wasn’t fooled, but played along.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, thank you, Mr. Parsley’s dad, will do, sir.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jimothan scoffed at that, and Flower left the bar with a laugh. Jerafina managed to wrangle him into a short ‘dance’ that was mostly her spinning him around, but it was a good dance nontheless.<br/>
</span>
</p><p> </p><p>...</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He reached his apartments before it got too late, or the air too sweet. Before hopping into bed he checked on the mystery flower.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He would be the first to admit he had no idea what the hell it was. Millie had handed him the tooth shaped seed after he’d assisted her in a good ol’ fashioned ‘clown assassination’. It had been dry, shriveled, and looked as if it had been stepped on. Not knowing what it was, and figuring it wasn’t going to grow, he’d nearly thrown it away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But his windowsill was empty after he’d gone and planted flowers around the courtyard for Trencil. Why not give it a shot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Surprisingly it had sprouted overnight. He couldn’t believe it at first, but the water and some sunlight had done the trick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now he stared at it’s lip-like bud. It hadn’t opened, if that was something it was even capable of doing. Whatever it was, whether petals or a bud, the flower was unchanged. It swayed in the evening breeze, enjoying the sweet air.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Flower could admit he was giddy, being honest with himself. Meeting someone like Parsley, and getting to help him out all in the same day was a <em>lot</em>. Good - but still a lot. </span>
  <span>It had definitely lifted his spirits after reading that depressing, crumpled note Trevor had given him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whoever the Boris kid was, he hadn’t met them yet, and judging from the date on the diary page, they were probably not a kid anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pity surged up inside him, squashing his giddy joy. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>got</span>
  </em>
  <span> the shitty family stuff. The not being understood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hurt smiles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He closed his eyes briefly before opening them and locking them on the swaying flower. Maybe it was the sudden bitter nostalgia that gripped him. Maybe it was something in the air, or the strange exhaustion that hit around this time of night. Whatever it was, it let him lean forward and plant a soft kiss on the flower on his sill.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, goodnight flower.” He could have sworn the plant was starting to smile. He brushed it off as exhaustion and threw himself into bed, thoughts drifting to fathers and sad, lonely kids.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He should call his boss… Or text him, let him know he was doing okay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He should stop calling him boss, too. He was Pops, and he was no longer mad enough at him to keep calling him Boss. To keep that angry distance between him and the kind florist that had taken him in and accepted him, issues and all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Flower Kid huffed and buried his face in his pillow. Morning. He’d think about this in the morning - not at night when he tended to get… Mushy. It had gotten worse since joining the Habitat, too. That ‘sweet mountain air :-)” was certainly doing its job.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He woke to the sound of the cheerful PSA music, and soft sunlight forcing itself into his bleary eyes. Ugh, though he was a morning person, he never felt like it at first. </span>
  <span>He slid to the end of his bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Doctor Habit’s latest PSA started to play, flowers bouncing on loop as the usual yellow text appeared.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>GOOD MWORNING SLEEPIE FRIENDS!!</b>
</p><p>
  <b>:-)</b>
</p><p>
  <b>WELCOME TO ANOTHER WUNDERFUL NEW DAY AT THE HABITAT! YES! THE HABITAT!!!</b>
</p><p>
  <b>ISNT IT GREAT HERE?</b>
</p><p>
  <b>AREN’T YOU GLAD YOU’RE HERE? MEETING NEW PEOPLE? DOING YOUR BEST NOT TO MAKE AWKWARD FIRST IMPRESSIONS?</b>
</p><p>
  <b>:-)</b>
</p><p>
  <b>I’M BET YOUR GLAD! INS FACTS! IVE NOTICED A LOT OF ~NEW~ SMILES LATELY!</b>
</p><p>
  <b>UP UP UP! NOT YET I SAY!</b>
</p><p>
  <b>ITSE NOT TIME YET! THE BIG EVENT WILL BE SOON ENOUGH “FRIENDS”</b>
</p><p>
  <b>BE PATIENTS!</b>
</p><p>
  <b>:-)</b>
</p><p>
  <b>UNTIL THEN. KEEP THOSE C ROOK ED SMILES TO YOURSELFS!</b>
</p><p>
  <b>:-O</b>
</p><p>
  <b>IME WATCHING YOU.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>:-) :-) :-) :-) :-) :-) :-) :-) :-) :-)</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His hands rose to his mouth and covered it. There was no one in his room, no one to see, but he still looked around. His nails starting to dig into his face was the only thing that made him take his hands and shove them into his pockets. </span>
  <span>How. Who? Parsley wouldn’t have gone and found Habit </span>
  <em>
    <span>just </span>
  </em>
  <span>to tell him about his uneven teeth. He could hear Pops’ voice in his head, objecting, there was no reason to believe that the PSA was meant for him...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it was. He knew it was. No one else here had his horrible, ugly teeth. No one else had been spreading ‘unauthorized’ smiles. No one else had flashed their uninhibited grin in the public carnival, where anyone could see. </span>
  <span>But </span>
  <em>
    <span>how</span>
  </em>
  <span>, how had he seen his smile from up in his tower? There was no way... Unless...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cameras. It had to be. There were obvious ones rotating back and forth all over the Habitat. He’d even helped Gillis escape the gaze of one just the other day. There must be sneakier ones hidden in places he hadn’t checked. </span>
  <span>The one time he let himself grin in the presence of someone other than Pops. The </span>
  <em>
    <span>one </span>
  </em>
  <span>time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pops would argue it didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>mean </span>
  </em>
  <span>anything. If it did, it just meant that the Doctor was petty and jealous and upset that things were ‘happening too fast’.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Pops wasn’t here. Even if he had been, he would have been able to do nothing about the shame washing over him. The flush reaching his cheeks, the stinging in his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was why he kept a tight-lipped smile. This was why he didn’t talk to people.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe, he worried, Parsley really had told Habit. Or someone else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were all probably making fun of him behind his back. They had probably all guessed who the PSA had been for; no one else here had ugly teeth like his. Ugly, stupid smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Flower stood up. He rinsed his face off and brushed his teeth, pointedly not looking in the mirror, and using his towel roughly to insure no toothpaste foam was left behind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hadn’t been to the roof yet! That was something to do! There had been a PSA the other day, mentioning it. How hadn’t he been there yet? He knew there were new people he hadn’t met up there. Lulia had only recently stopped blocking the stairs up there as well, how serendipitous! </span>
  <span>He zipped his sweatshirt up, and stood still for a moment in the middle of his room, practicing his smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Like a grimace, remember? Keep those lips shut. Tug the corners up, don’t smile when you talk. Just like he’d practiced. Lips pressed firm and no gaps where a flash of off-white might sneak past. Good.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Composed, or as composed as he could manage, he left his room. He made sure to firmly shut the door behind him, and avoided Nat’s inquisitive gaze as he skirted past her. Best to keep busy.<br/>
</span>
</p>
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